


maybe we could be enough

by bravestyles



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, HIV/AIDS, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, for more tags look at the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravestyles/pseuds/bravestyles
Summary: Nick thinks it's funny, really.Actually, no; funny isn't the right word to use. Ironic, maybe. Or utterly fucking terrifying. Definitely not funny. Funny is probably the last word Nick would use, because Harry Styles is at his door step when he is supposed to be in the States, last time Nick checked, with wet, red eyes and his finger nails butchering a piece of paper he's holding. "I really, really need to talk to you. It's important," is his greeting, and fuck. Nick feels many things while near the enigma that is Harry Styles, but terrified has never been one of them.or,Harry has HIV and tells Nick. Angst ensues.





	maybe we could be enough

**Author's Note:**

> additional tags (slight spoilers): brief slut-shaming, minor car wreck, minor injuries, internalized homophobia of a minor character
> 
> enjoy loves :)

Nick thinks it's funny, really.

Actually, no; funny isn't the right word to use. Ironic, maybe. Or utterly fucking terrifying. Definitely not funny. Funny is probably the last word Nick would use, because Harry Styles is at his door step when he is supposed to be in the States, last time Nick checked, with wet, red eyes and his finger nails butchering a piece of paper he's holding. "I really, really need to talk to you. It's important," is his greeting, and fuck. Nick feels many things while near the enigma that is Harry Styles, but terrified has never been one of them. 

Nick grips his door tighter. Pig's still scampering beneath him, Nick having a hold on her collar so she won't run, and she's trying desperately to reach Harry. Nick's stopping her from doing so; he has an incredibly strong gut instinct whatever Harry is here to tell him is going to change everything, and maybe if he can convince Harry to leave, he can avoid it forever. "I have to go to work soon," Nick tries weakly. He doesn't want to discuss whatever Harry's here to discuss. 

Pig makes another attempt at leaping towards Harry. Nick feels hot all over, and not in the good way. Instead, it's in the fucking-shit-I'm-going-to-have-a-heart-attack type of way. 

The thing is, Nick had a plan. He woke an hour ago, so he could take a bath before work because you know what? He deserves one. And yes, he took an hour-long bath, and yes, he waddled out of the bathroom with his hair sticking every which way and wrapped in a baby blue towel around his shoulders like a small child, he won't be ashamed of it. He made a healthy breakfast that's waiting for him on his table with Gilmore Girls paused on the telly. There's an hour left before he has to get to work, and he wants to spend that time doing what he wants, not dealing with Harry. That definitely isn't part of the plan.

But he doesn't have a choice, because Harry sniffles, small and quiet. Nick's heart plummets, though he doesn't allow himself to expand on what possibly could be so wrong - there's still time to run for the hills instead of taking whatever this is head-on.

"Nick." His voice is heavy, drenched in sadness and pleading. Nick can't remember another time he's heard him like his. It does nothing for his impending heart attack. "Cancel or something. This is really, really important."

"Haz, you can't just pop out of nowhere. I haven't seen you since - " Nick cuts himself off. Since before your tour. Since we fucked, and you said that you loved me. Since you left and told me you couldn't do whatever this was anymore.

"Yeah, Nick. I know. Since - that, yes." Harry sniffles again. The paper in his hand crumples further, and Nick drags his eyes down to properly look at it. Mr. Harry Styles is written on the front in very formal handwriting, and Nick lets himself wonder what the hell is going on now, but his mind draws a blank. "And I know I said we should, like, stop seeing each other and other really stupid things, but Nick. This is much bigger than any of that."

Nick stays quiet for a moment. He thinks it over: he still has an hour left, calling off work now wouldn't be a crime. Finchy would hate him, but someone from the night show could probably cover. He can still eat his breakfast and watch his program, so it'd all work out, really, but Nick isn't sure he wants it to. He doesn't want to talk about whatever Harry wants to talk about. 

Harry grows impatient. A tear slips out of his eye. "Nick, God. Will you listen to me? This is important."

"So you keep saying," Nick snaps, harsher than he means to. He doesn't know where the anger is coming from. (He does, but he thought he was over it. It's been months.) Pigs lurches forward, her attempts futile yet putting a strain on Nick's arm. "But you can't just show up out of nowhere, all sad looking, telling me to call off work. You do realize the show is the only thing I have going for me now, yeah? There used to be more, but there isn't now." Nick takes a deep breath. Quieter, he repeats, "There used to be more."

Another teardrop falls from Harry's eye. He brushes it away, a determined, steely look on his features. "I'm not here to argue. I'm here to discuss a possibly life-altering situation, and you are making this about something that wasn't even real. Our relationship was never real, Nick. So just let me tell you what I need to tell you."

Nick's arm is starting to burn from Pig's constant moving. She's whining now, too. Nick doesn't really care about that, though. No. He cares about the fact that Harry is carrying an envelope obviously from an office of medicine and he's telling Nick that what they had wasn't real when Harry was the one who made it all too real when he confessed his love. 

"Fine," Nick finds himself saying. He can't take his eyes off from that stupid envelope. "I'll call in. Tell them I've got the flu, or summat. And we can talk, and then you're going to leave, and I'm going to enjoy my Styles-free day."

Harry looks relieved. He nods, wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. "I'm not going to just leave afterwards, but alright."

Nick doesn't say anything. He just pulls Pig back and lets Harry inside. Harry's eyes fall on Nick's breakfast set up, and he winces. Actually winces. Like every single part of him tenses, and he frowns. Nick's for sure going to have a heart attack. For now, though, he drags Pig outside so she won't eat Nick's (now cold) breakfast. Once she's settled and he's stalled a little before shooting a very professional 'not gonna make it into work today, soz love' to Finchy, he comes back inside and goes to his living room. 

Harry is staring at the paused telly show like it's the scariest movie he has ever watched. The envelope is still in his hand. Nick still doesn't have any guesses, aside from a scenario where Harry has gotten some girl pregnant and he doesn't know what to do. 

Harry wouldn't come to Nick for advice on pregnant girls. They both know it.

"You really are scaring the shit out of me, Haz." Nick sits down, on the couch parallel to the one's Harry's on. The only thing separating them (physically, that is) is Nick's coffee table with his breakfast on it. It doesn't look as appetizing as it did a few minutes ago.  

"I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, puts his head in his hand for a brief moment. He doesn't let go of the envelope. "And I'm sorry that I have to tell you this. That my stupidity might have gotten you into this mess, but - "

Nick steadies his voice. "Harry." His eyes flicker to the envelope. "Just say it."

Harry sniffles yet again and sits up. He's putting on this tough-guy act, but as always, his eyes give him away. He's bricking it. "So, like. You know how it's part of my contract to get checkups every three months?"

No, actually. Nick didn't know that. "Yeah."

Harry looks away from Nick and starts playing with his rings. Nick watches intently, watches the pinky ring go round and round. "Well, like. Getting screened for STD's is part of all that."

Immediately, Nick's heart drops to his stomach. His mind instantly knows what Harry's getting it, the reason for all the tears, but he pushes it down because no. No. Harry could just have a gnarly case of genital warts or something. Nick could be okay. 

"I skipped one of those checkups." He sucks in a breath, twirling his thumb ring in slow circles. "Told them I didn't need one at the time. I'd only fucked around with a few people, and none of them were strangers. I thought I was safe."

Nick closes his eyes. "But you weren't. You aren't." He knows what's coming, he does, but he won't let himself process it until Harry says it. 

And then Harry says it. "I tested positive for HIV, Nick."

Just like that, Nick's throat closes and his head spins. His heart starts hammering, faster than it was before. He knows what this could mean. He's had sex with Harry. Harry is positive for HIV. Nick could have HIV. Everything's fucked. "When'd you. When - fuck, fuck, fuck." Nick opens his eyes. The room's distorted. "When did you find out?"

Harry swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He wets his lips with his tongue and clears his throat before saying, "Three weeks ago."

He must be mistaken, Nick thinks, because Harry did not know he was HIV+ for three weeks without telling Nick. There's just no fucking way. Nick knows Harry: sweet, honest, trustworthy Harry. There's no way Harry would put Nick and everybody else Nick's sleeping with in danger like that. 

Two tears come crashing down Harry's face. He doesn't wipe them away this time. "I'm so, so sorry, Nick."

Nick puts his hands up to pause Harry. He's not ready for apologizes yet. His hands stay there, suspended in the air, and then he drops them a beat too late. "You're telling me you knew for three bloody weeks and didn't feel the need to call me and say, 'Hey, Grimmy. I've got fucking AIDS, just thought you should know'?"

"I know, okay? I know. But I was in the States and calling you didn't feel right, and - "

Nick ignores the way Harry's hands are shaking. His are, too. "Fuck that. It didn't 'feel right'? I'm not sure it 'felt right' for every single fucking guy I've shagged in those three weeks."

Harry's eyes go wide, fingers pausing their work on his rings. "I called Aimee. She told me she'd make sure you wouldn't go out and pull. She said - I thought - "

"You mean to tell me you told my best friend I could have HIV before you told me?" Now that Nick thinks of it, though, he hasn't gone out in three weeks. Aimee has been keeping him in, claimed she didn't feel well, that she needed company. Nick was beginning to think that she was either pregnant or had the plague. 

"I'm sorry." To his benefit, he truly does look sorry. Harry's eyes are all stormy and his mouth is in a steady frown, eyebrows pushed together tightly. But Nick doesn't want to hear it, not right now. "I tried hundreds of times to call you, but I couldn't. It was easy to call everybody else, but not you."

Nick's face twists. "It was 'easy' to tell someone you've possibly given them a STD?"

Harry's lip wobbles. Despite everything, Nick wants to rush over and console him. "No, it wasn't easy. I cried for hours before and after each phone call. That's not what I mean. It's just - you're different, alright? I couldn't just call you like everybody else. And we have a two-day break, I thought this would be a good time." Harry shakes his head and corrects, "A possible time. Not a good one."

Nick feels like he's going to explode. He's got a boy before him, all wobbling lips and glossy eyes telling him that his life is ruined, and that Nick's life could possibly be ruined as well. All that's going through his head is Jesus Christ, was having sex with a young popstar really worth it?

Harry was more than that though. Harry was Harry and he was in love with him and maybe Nick's a terrible person for wanting to take back the time they spent together. Or, maybe not, because Nick's life will never be the same, even if his tests come back negative. 

"Nick," Harry practically whimpers. Nick looks at him sharply; Harry got them into this mess, why the hell is he allowed to be upset? "Please say something."

Anger and fear are colliding in his veins. They're a dangerous mix. He scoffs and sits back, lets those burning emotions take the wheel. "I should've known better than to get involved with you."

Harry visibly flinches. He doesn't defend himself, though, he just nods. And no, that's not fair. Nick is hurting, and Harry should be, too.

"How many people did you have to call, Harry?" he continues, "I mean, shit. You must've been on that phone for hours." Nick laughs. It's loud and harsh on Harry's ears. "And those were just the ones you can remember. Lord only knows how many times you've gotten too drunk to even function and fucked some random bird in the bathroom."

"Implying I'm a slut isn't going to get you anywhere, Nick," Harry points out. He sounds hurt, like he hadn't expected Nick to be so brutal. 

Sympathy has never been his strong suit, so Nick shrugs. "I wasn't implying anything. 'Cause it's the truth, innit? You're a fucking slag, and a sleaze, and I should've listened to every single one of the hundred people with half a brain telling me you were nothing but trouble."

"That's not fair. I know this isn't something you wanted, and neither did I, fuck. But what we had was good. For a really long time, it was good. And this doesn't change that."

Nick's jaw drops. Like actually drops, and he looks at Harry incredulously. "Yes, it does. It changes every bit of it. And we didn't have anything, you knob. All we had was a few quick shags whenever you felt inclined to stop by."

"That's not true - "

"And the one fucking night it actually was something, that you actually had the balls to own the way you felt, you checked out five minutes later and left me here, in London, while you traveled the world, giving half of it AIDS."

Anger flashes across Harry's face, and maybe it's justified at this point. "I've not got AIDS, you absolute wanker, stop saying that. And for your knowledge, everybody I've slept with in the past year knows. They got tested, and every single one of them are negative, and guess fucking what, Nick? I didn't just get it from the air."

Nick's heart plummets. 

"Yeah," Harry spits. "I probably got it from you. And yet, you don't see me running my mouth, trashing everything we had. Or being a fucking asshole to somebody who found out not too long ago that they're going to fucking have to deal with this for the rest of their life."

Harry stands abruptly. His hands are shaking, and tears are running steadily down his cheeks. There's no trace of that hard-front Harry was putting up earlier. "Do you know how fucking hard it was to call everyone? Most of them are my friends, Nick, and I had to tell everybody." He sniffles, loud and sad. "Louis didn't talk to me for a week, even after he got his results back. And my mum still doesn't know because you know what she's going to think, and she's still barely accepted that I'm bisexual. This will go ahead and make all her fears confirmed, and she'll start thinking all gay people have HIV because of me, Nick. She already fucking hates me. Do you realize how that makes me feel?"

When Harry's done, he's crying freely now. Nick didn't think about any of that, but can you blame him? He learned he could very possibly have a life-altering STD, he was thinking about himself and only himself. Still, his heart breaks for Harry.

"Anne doesn't hate you," Nick says dumbly, but that's all he can think to say. It's true, though. Anne may have cried and cried and cried when Harry told her he was bi. She may have asked him to leave and might not have returned his calls for the next few weeks, but she's trying to understand. She asks Harry about his boyfriends and her gut doesn't twist in disgust. She loves her son and his ability to love, she only wishes he could love only girls. But she's stopped telling him that a long while ago. 

Harry throws his hands up weakly. "You hate me. Why wouldn't she?"

Nick frowns, shaking his head. His posture deflates, and he feels like shit. He should've known the anger wasn't going to last long, that it wasn't good to hide behind that. "I don't hate you, Harry. It's just. You really, really should've told me sooner."

"I know."

"You put me and other in dangers every second you stayed silent."

Sadder, this time, "I know."

"And you're not a slut. I'm sorry I said that."

Harry shrugs, wiping at his eyes. "I am. 's just not a bad thing, 's all."

Nick wants to tell him how hypocritical he sounds, but he doesn't. He bites his tongue because he's said enough shitty things for one day. Instead, he sighs and wipes at his forehead. "I need to get tested. Like, ASAP."

Harry nods. He still has the stupid envelope in his hands. Nick can only hope and pray his results don't look like Harry's. "Yeah, you do. There's two different types of test you can take."

"What?"

Harry nods again. "There's one that gets your results back quicker, but it's not as accurate. And there's another one that's more accurate, but - "

"But what?"

Harry takes a deep breath. "There's a. . . a 'window period' they call it. It's when you can test negative even if you have it." Nick looks panicked, but Harry is quick to cut him off by raising a hand. "The last time we had sex was four months ago. If you have it, your tests should show it."

Nick hates himself for it, yet a small burst of hope and relief goes off in his chest. At this point, it's likely he's the one who gave it to Harry since all of Harry's booty-calls have tested negative. But if one of them tested falsely negative. . . He could still be in the clear. 

He stands up with energy ruining through his veins. "Can I get tested today? Right now?"

Harry nods quickly. "Yes. It's Tuesday; everyone's open. But there's one thing I want to tell you before you get tested. A few things, actually."

Nick wants to cry. There's more? "What?"

Harry gets all serious; he's eyes are boring into Nick's soul and his stance is firm. "First of all, if you do test positive - " Nick grows antsy, " - you are the same exact person, okay? Nothing about you is going to suddenly change. You'll still be your funny, charming, beautiful self, okay?" Nick nods barely. Apparently, it's not good enough. "Nick."

"Yes, yes fine. All right."

"Good. And secondly, if you do test positive - " Are all of Harry's points going to start with that? Jesus Christ. " - you shouldn't go around on a witch hunt trying to point fingers at someone."

Nick scoffs. He can't help it. "You're just trying to save your own ass there, Styles."

"Only partly. The idea of you not hating me sounds amazing, spare me. But you need to focus on yourself and your health, not who put that in jeopardy." Harry catches Nick's eyes. "And if it's from me, and I did get it from someone, and I can't remember who, I want you to know that I will hate myself forever for it, okay?"

How exactly is this supposed to make Nick feel better?

"And that's not me asking for your pity, Nick," Harry continues. "It's me telling you I never had anything but good intentions going into us. Because as soon as I met you, yes, I wanted there to be an us."

Nick blinks. "Now's not the time for confessions of love, Harry, I - "

"No, I know that. Of course, I know that. It's just. I don't know. I thought it should be said." Harry licks his lips nervously. "Last thing, I swear. If you test negative, you have to promise to be careful."

"I'm always careful, Haz."

"No, you're not." Nick wants to argue, but Harry stops him. "You aren't a fan of condoms, and you never have been. And don't argue with me about this; I have firsthand experiences, don't I? Plenty. The first time we shagged, you invited me back to yours after only a few hours of knowing me, and you didn't even have any condoms with you. You can't do that, okay?"

Nick fumbles for his words. "What - so, you just. That's your way out? I don't like wearing condoms, so you must've got it from me? That's not - shit, Harry. That's not fair."

"I don't think I got it from you," Harry admits quietly. He stares at Nick's floor. "You sleep with a fair share of people, too, and I think it would've circled back by now."

"So where do you think you got it?"

Harry shrugs sadly. "I'm not sure. And at this point, I don't think I'm ever going to find out? But. I'm becoming more and more okay with that. With not knowing. I don't want to hate someone for something that was my mistake just as much as it was theirs."

Nick doesn't agree with that at all. "Harry, whoever gave it to you should've been responsible. They should've got tested. How is that in any way your mistake?"

Harry thinks on it for a moment before smiling weakly. "It's my body, yeah? I know what's out there. If it was consensual, it was just as much my responsibility as theirs."

"That's stupid. If you got it from a guy and he was topping - "

"None of that matters, Nick," Harry snaps. He takes a deep breath to smooth himself out. "Bottom line, I should've been more careful. Picking my partners more carefully, not sleeping with so many different people, with so many strangers. Chances are, I didn't even get the person's number. I let them fuck me - I let them inside of me - but I didn't want to deal with them afterwards." Harry rolls his eyes. "They always tell you if you couldn't handle having a baby with them or calling them and telling them you have an STD, then you shouldn't be having sex with them."

"Sure, but if you made sure they were wearing a condom, then - "

Annoyed, Harry cuts him off. "If a girl gets pregnant the guys just as responsible as she is, isn't he?"

"Well, yeah. Of course, but -"

"Even if she's on birth control and he's wearing a condom, they both are responsible, yes?"

"Harry - "

"Yes or no, Nick?"

Nick sighs. "Yes, I guess. But - "

"This is no different." Harry's eyes are cloudy again, but he looks determined not to let any tears fall. "It was my stupidity mixed with some stranger's irresponsibility. That's it."

That's it. Harry says it like they aren't dealing with a life-altering disease. In no way can this be equated to pregnancy. With pregnant people, there's loop holes and outs. With pregnant people, babies don't spread to other people. With pregnant people, they are celebrating, not trying to figure out how the fuck they're supposed to death with this. (Okay, maybe the last one goes both ways. But he's a very gay male and he'll never get some girl pregnant, so he doesn't have to worry about that.)

"C'mon, Nick. Let's go get you tested."

Nick nods, and for some reason, Harry looks more scared than Nick does.

 

The results are negative.  

Harry was right; the test only needs about ten minutes to get Nick his results back. Ten minutes of pure hell, pacing, and Harry trying to distract him with funny stories from tour. ("Seriously, Nick. Louis tried to get on top of a police car. It was wild.") Ten minutes later, and Nick's out of the woods almost entirely. He knows deep down the results could be falsely negative, but it's enough for now. It has to be enough for now. 

Harry's the one who reads Nick's results, and when he does, Nick's heart bursts with joy even when he sees Harry's face fall for a split second before spitting into a shit-eating grin. They're in a small office for security reasons - how terrible would it be if the whole world knew why Nick and Harry are there - so Nick doesn't have to move very far to wrap his arms around Harry excitedly. 

It's so strange. Both feel it instantly, are hit with the weight of how wrongly foreign it feels to be wrapped up in each other again. But then they revel in it, and Nick hugs Harry a little tighter, and Harry snuggles in a little deeper. Everything's so great. 

Except for Harry, it isn't. Nick doesn't realize it until they're back in the car. He doesn't know the driver, he's a middle-aged man that Harry rang up, so he knows better than to say anything about it for now. He just grabs hand tightly in his, but even that Harry pulls away from. 

"I'm okay," Harry offers lightly. Even if Nick hasn't known Harry since he'd been a snot-nosed nineteen-year-old, he'd know he's lying. He lets himself believe it anyways.

When they get back to Nick's flat and Harry looks pale-faced and shaky, Nick decides to call Harry's bluff. A part of him fears that Harry's shakiness is from being HIV+, and only then does Nick realize he truly doesn't know crap about the disease. 

"Haz," Nick murmurs quietly when Harry steers himself straight towards Nick's bathroom. (It shouldn't hurt that Harry knows exactly where it is. It does.) Nick catches the door before it can close, and Harry looks back at him with pleading eyes. 

"I'm fine," Harry tries.

"You aren't, babe." 

Harry shrugs, before leaning against Nick's sink. He seems spacey and tired, and Nick remembers that Harry only has a day and a half off before he has to be in the States again. He's spending it with Nick. "It's stupid."

"It's not."

Harry snorts, looking at him with a smile. "I haven't even said what's wrong yet. Could be stupid. You don't know." Nick stays quiet until Harry builds up the courage to speak. It doesn't take long, just a couple of seconds. "I just. . . I'm fucking ecstatic you're negative, obviously. You don't know how many nights I've spent awake praying you would be. But now that I know for sure you are, it's. . . Well, first off, now I have no bloody clue who gave me it."

Nick nods. He couldn't live with not knowing. 

"But like I said before, it doesn't really matter. It shouldn't, anyways." Harry pauses before whispering, "I'm alone in all of this now."

Immediately, like removing your hand from a hot stove, Nick starts to shut that kind of talk down. "You aren't, love. I--"

"No, Nick. Stop. Just stop." Nick does. Harry sighs. "I thought if you, like. . . if you had it too, we'd be in this together. Which is, like, the dumbest thing on planet earth because we haven't done anything together in four months."

"Things are different now, Haz. I won't disappear again."

Harry grows angry then. "You won't disappear? Nick, you bloody idiot, I'm the one that disappeared. I lived up to everybody's expectations and fucking left. You didn't do shit expect get involved with the wrong guy." He's sniffles loudly. "It's stupid because, like. If I would've just owned the way I felt, I wouldn't have HIV right now. But I was a fucking coward and now my life's never going to be the same, and my mum's going to hate me, and Louis already hates me, and management is trying to put me on a fucking sex-ban to make sure I don't go around spreading it around. Like I would fucking do that? And now I'm just another gay guy with HIV and I don't know what to do with that." He looks up sharply at Nick. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

Nick wants to hug Harry, but he's hesitant, and Harry notices. Of course he notices. "You won't even touch me now. Four months ago, we couldn't keep our hands off each other and now you're looking at me like I'm a ticking time bomb."

That's not it at all. That's - "No, no. Harry, no. It's not that, fuck. I just don't want to overwhelm you right now. You don't need a boyfriend right now, you need a friend, and I don't. I don't know where we stand." His words are all jumbled, and they aren't saying what Nick really means. He doesn't want to look like he's trying to be Prince Charming and get in Harry's pants. He's just trying to be a good friend. 

Harry glares at the wall opposite to him. He's got Nick's sink clutched tightly in hands and his arms are flexing like they're trying to break it. Nick idly wonders if he actually could. "I'm in love with you still."

"Harry. . ." he murmurs sadly. It's the way Harry says it; he sounds so sad about it, so angry. Nick can't imagine what he's going through right now. 

"Stop trying to fix the things that I broke, Nick," Harry snaps. "All I want to say is that. . . yes, I'm still in love with you. And yes, I'm the world's biggest idiot for letting you go and toying with your heart, but no. I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now."

Nick nods. Okay. Yes, that's the answer he'd been expecting. It's okay. "I get that. And Harry - " Nick's cut off momentarily by Harry glaring at him sharply. It's chilling, that look. "All I'm trying to say is that you aren't the only won't who screwed everything up. We both were pretending for months. Years, even. I was constantly making up excuses why we couldn't be together. First it was because you were only nineteen, and then it was because I thought you were still with Tomlinson, and then it's because I told myself it just wasn't the right time, and - "

"What are you saying, Nick?" Harry's eyes have gone all soft now, showing his youth and his fears and his insecurities all at the same time. This is how Nick remembers him, a small boy trying to find himself and figure everything out while also having the whole world's eyes on him. Harry could rip Nick's heart out and shatter it and Nick would still have a soft spot for him. 

Nick shrugs gently. He's not entirely sure what he's saying. After a moment of thinking, he sighs. "When you're ready to give dating another shot, I'd like to be the first attempt." And hopefully the last. Maybe. 

Harry nods once and that's it. The conversation Nick had been fretting so deeply for months is over with, and now it seems so stupid in comparison to everything else. Nick's heart my feel a little better, but Harry's is shattered for much bigger reasons and it's all so dumb. Harry's a good person. He doesn't even have to try to be, he just is. And Harry's the one with HIV, and not Nick. Maybe it should be the other way around. Should it? Nick doesn't know.

"I'm going to shower," Harry mumbles, turning away. He goes to pull back the shower curtain, but he pauses and turns to Nick looking a little sheepish. "Can I shower?"

"Yes, Haz. You can do whatever you want." And isn't that the truth?

 

They sleep in Nick's bed that night. Together. Well, not together, together; Harry's curled up at the bottom of the bed in Nick's old clothes like a cat whilst Nick selfishly spreads out at the top. Harry had complained he couldn't see the TV good enough, but since Nick has an overly-fancy telly that practically devours his whole wall and Harry has 20/20 vision, he knows that Harry was either hiding tears or the fact that he was falling asleep during Nick's favorite show. 

Nick, though. Nick can't fall asleep. Harry has been out for at least two hours now, so he turned off the telly so he could sleep soundly. Nick's nursed Harry back to health after so many different long runs on tours, it's almost ridiculous how easy it comes to him. Despite his past experiences, now's different, and now all he wants Harry to unfold himself and lay next to him, but there's all these boundaries and Nick's scared to step over one.

He tries to sleep on his own, he genuinely does. But Harry being halfway around the world is a lot different them him being right under his feet, so Nick finds it much harder to sleep without him near. He tries counting sheep, tries bullying himself to sleep. Nothing works. 

Harry's got a bad back, though. It'd be awful to let him sleep all folded up like that. Ah, yes, his back. Nick can't have that, can he?

"Harold," he whispers, toeing at the back of Harry's neck. Him talking only causes Pig to stir in her bed next to Nick's while Harry shows no sign of hearing him. 

It's so insanely idiotic, but Nick convinces himself that's Harry's gone and kicked the bucket at the bottom of his bed. He knows that's not how HIV works, yet the fears still there and gnawing at Nick's heart. He sits up a little faster than needed and reaches down to tug at Harry's curls, forces himself to do it softly just in time. 

Harry groans quietly. Nick's heart goes back into place. 

"What'd'u want, Nick?" Harry mumbles. He sounds overworked, exhausted, and so, so young. 

He smiles a little. "Budge up, Styles."

Harry stills for a moment before seemingly agreeing with Nick. He wriggles his way up to the top of the bed instead of moving like a civilized human being, and once he's settled, their faces are about a foot a part. Slowly, as if not to let the other notice, they both inch closer together until their noses almost touch. 

A moment of silence takes over them before Harry reaches out and sets his hand on Nick's chest. He doesn't do anything, just rests it there, and then Nick realizes he's feeling Nick's heartbeat. It's a little more weird than romantic, but that's Harry in a nutshell.

For a minute, Nick thinks Harry's gone back to sleep. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and his lip keeps twitching slightly, but besides that, there's no sign he's awake. Eventually, his eyes open again slowly and he asks, "Is it bad I thought you were going to handle this the worst?" Harry asks quietly. 

Nick shakes his head. "No. I'm a bit melodramatic." Neither of them mentions that this is something to be dramatic about. "Who handled it worse than I did?"

Harry closes his eyes and a small frown eats away at his soft complexion. "Louis."

Nick's never liked him. 

"He completely freaked out on me," Harry admits quietly. "Called me a slag and said that I brought this on to myself." His eyebrows furrow before they go back to normal as he laughs a little. "He said kind of the same stuff you did, now that I think about it." His fingers start to make small shapes against Nick's chest, almost offhandedly. It's more than soothing. "He seemed to mean them more, though. And he still hasn't apologized or taken anything back."

Although he doesn't exactly like Louis, he understands his side of things more than he does Harry's. But it's not his job to be there for Louis, it's his job to be here for Harry, so he swallows down his hatred. "He still loves you, though. That's what counts."

Harry shrugs. "I don't know about that anymore."

Interested now, Nick perks up a little. "What's that mean?"

The way Harry opens his eyes are slow, and it reveals the tears behind his eyelids. They shine in the darkness roughly, brightly, and it makes Nick's heart clench. "You know how we, like, dated for a while, yeah?"

Nick nods. "Two years or so, yeah."

"Three," Harry corrects weakly. "Well, ever since we broke up, we've been kind of. . . off. He's still my best friend of course, but. I don't know. It's always been so obvious that he's sort of resented me."

"For what?"

Harry sits up with his elbow and rests his head on his hand. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but. Louis' always sort of hated the fact that he's gay. Not sort of, he, uh. He hates himself for it."

"He's not gay, though. He's dating Eleanor still, isn't he?" They both ignore the fact that Louis' cheated on her countless of times. 

"Yeah, but. He's gay. Trust me; I don't think he could get it up for a girl without thinking about a guy if his life depending on it."

"Oh," is all Nick has to say to that. 

"Yeah. And he's always said that before me, he never thought he was gay. But I know he means that before me, he wouldn't admit it to himself. We broke up because he decided he was going to try and be straight."

Nick cringes. That's rough. He feels for Eleanor of course, but if the boy's gay and he's dating a girl, no wonder why he cheats on her with Harry, a male, so much. Harry's never told him that before. 

"I've told him so many times that that's not how it works, but he won't listen. He's insistent. But he still came to me to fuck around because he's, well, he's fucking gay. And he said that I shouldn't have let him do that, that I should've turned him away. But in the beginning, it was because I was still in love with him, and ever since it's been because I feel bad for him." Harry's quiet for a second. "He doesn't want to risk sleeping with me anymore. He says I'm not worth it. I've told him that there's legit medical ways to make sure he won't get it, but he won't listen."

Selfishly, Nick points out, "I thought you said you aren't ready to be with someone," and he regrets saying it because how is he so good at making everything about himself? Harry doesn't seem to mind, though. He just shrugs gently.

"I'm not. But Louis' at war with himself, and I'd do anything to help him out. He's not had sex he's enjoyed in close to a month. He's going insane."

Nick lets the information soak into his skin. Maybe he doesn't like Louis, but that doesn't mean he can't pity him. Louis doesn't seem to be the type to want pity, though. Especially from him. "Do you think he'll find a new gent to hook up with?"

"No. I'm the only guy he's ever been with."

"Shit, Haz. That's so fucked."

Harry nods in agreement. "There was a time that he was going to come out to Jay. We made a pact that we were going to do it together, me first. And then Mum freaked out and Louis has never talked about it again."

Nick doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing. To acknowledge Harry's words, Nick grabs Harry's hand and holds it against his chest. It's dark, so Nick can't be certain, but he swears Harry smiles. 

They fall asleep like that, like old times. And just like old times, Nick has to wake up way too early and try to sneak out of bed without disturbing Harry. He manages to hop out of bed and only cause Harry to grumble something incoherent and roll over. Besides that, Nick's in the clear. 

He lets Pig out and while she wees, Nick watches her. He starts to get all emotional about the whole thing, a little hysteric some would probably say. Harry's words from last night ring out in his head. If I would've just owned the way I felt, I wouldn't have HIV right now. If Nick had not let Harry go so easily, Harry would be healthy. They would be happy. Louis would still talk to Harry, and Harry would stop being so insecure about his mother's opinions on him, and it would be so much easier, god, it would be easy. He begins to tear up but then quickly realizes he's crying while watching his dog have a wee in their background and he stops. 

He pulls on clothes and brushes his teeth and does everything he normally does but now there's this weight on him. On his heart, more specifically. He may have tested negative, but he still feels responsible for Harry's illness. He gets in his car, cries, hits the steering wheel, drives to work, and the weight still hasn't left. 

Matt notices it instantly. He hovers around Nick for a few minutes until Nick finally shakes him off with some sorry excuse about still being ill. Throughout the whole show, he feels tense and shaken. Still, Matt hovers, and now he's got Fiona on his case too. 

"It's Harry, isn't it?" Fiona asks after they've wrapped. "I heard he was in town. Did he really come to your house? Is that why you called off work?"

"Stop reading so many gossip magazines," is all Nick says before he shoves on his coat and he makes his way out of the studio. 

Fiona follows. "He doesn't deserve you, Nick. Tell him to go home and visit his mother or something."

"Fi, stop," he breathes, quickening his pace. She doesn't know that Anne doesn't accept Harry, not really. She doesn't know that Anne will probably hate Harry once she finds out he's positive. She doesn't know Harry's terrified. She doesn't know. 

She doesn't stop. "He broke your heart, Nick."

"He was just scared."

"He was a coward."

"Stop, Fiona, seriously."

"He said he loved you and left. If he was anybody else, you would have killed him if he showed up on your doorstep."

Nick is growing beyond annoyed. The door's in his sight. It does nothing to tame the fire in his heart. "But he's not anybody else."

"Yes, he is. He's just another young popstar you've fallen head over heels in love with."

Nick turns around to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell does that even mean? Do you realize that you don't know shit about him?"

She crosses her arms and tilts her hip like she's won. She hasn't. "I know enough."

He loses it then because no, she doesn't. She doesn't know anything. "He's bloody positive for HIV, Fiona. That's why I called off work. That's why I forgave him. That's why he isn't just anybody else." The words come out harsh and rushed, sounds like they come from a madman or something. He thought he'd feel better if he told someone. He doesn't; he feels worse. How is that even possible right now?

Fiona looks at him like he's told her he has cancer or something; her eyes are all wide and her stance falters quickly. "Nick, oh my God. Have you gotten tested?"

"Yes," Nick seethes. 

"And?"

"And what?"

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. "Are you positive, you nitwit?"

"No, I'm not. I'm - why does that even matter? Harry still is." He gives her one last threatening do not tell a soul glare before turning on his heel and walking away. He thinks it's all he can muster without breaking into tears. 

When he gets to his car, he decides he shouldn't be driving with so many emotions thrumming through his veins. To relieve some tension around his heart, he goes on his phone to fuck around on Instagram a bit. When he turns on his phone, though, he's met with five missed calls from Anne. 

Shit. 

He doesn't allow himself to question why she would need to call Nick five times, he just quickly calls her back. It rings once, twice, and then he's met with Anne's harsh voice.

"Nick, how dare you," she spits. He can't get a word in before she continues to rant. "We trusted you with him. Robin and I, Gemma - we all liked you. But now, after everything you've done? I don't want you ever speaking to my son again."

Nick sighs, resting his head against his steering wheel. "I've not done anything wrong." 

"Pardon me? My son has HIV because of you, Nick. And don't act like you didn't know because he told me he's at your flat. He needs to leave."

"He's leaving tomorrow," Nick says. His voice wavers for no good reason. "And Anne, I'm sorry, but I'm not the one he got it from." It's such an odd thing to apologize for, he realizes, but he'll do or say anything to get Anne to stop pestering him about something he has no connection to. 

"Of course you are!"

"I tested negative, thank you very much. Do you want me to fax you a doctor's note?" He's being more sarcastic then he ever has been with Anne, but he's sad and hurt and she's not helping any of it. 

She scoffs, her anger not fading in the slightest. "He's been reckless since he's met you. Going out, getting drunk, sleeping with random guys. Guys. That's on you."

Not only is that not fair, it's simply not the truth. Not even close to it. "When I met him, he was a nineteen-year-old popstar with millions of dollars. He went out every night without me, before he even met me. And I've not turned him gay, if that's what you're getting at. He's been bisexual since he popped out of you."

Anne starts to say something else, but Nick can't take anymore so he hangs up. Just. . . hangs up. After he's done it his thumb feels on fire as it hovers over his screen that reads CALL ENDED, yet he tells himself he's not anything wrong. Anne was attacking him and accusing him of things that he didn't even do. He'll take the blame for a lot of things with Harry - getting him addicted to crappy American TV Shows, talking him out of working out and causing him to become soft around the edges at the peak of their friendship, breaking his habit of being an early riser, etc.-- but not this. She's poking and prodding at fresh bruises, so no one can blame Nick for yanking away in pain. 

If Anne knows, that must mean Harry told her. And based on his own phone conversation, she must've reacted terribly. Should he tell Harry that Anne called him? He certainly doesn't want to make things worse for Harry, but if it was the other way around, Nick would want to know. 

A mental breakdown and a half later, Nick makes it home. He sluggishly gets out of his car after wiping his eyes and unlocks his door. As soon as he walks inside, sniffles that literally can't belong to anyone other than Harry are heard. It breaks Nick's heart all over again. Harry's got to stop doing that. 

Harry's curled up on his couch, - the couch, the couch that Nick had been sitting on when Harry told him - with the blanket from Nick's room wrapped around him, tight as a vice. His fingers are shaking with how hard he's clutching his phone. 

"Harry," Nick murmurs, carefully making his presence known if Harry didn't hear him come in. It looks like he hadn't, because as soon as he sees Nick, he curses and sits up, shoving the blanket off of him. "Love, it's - "

Harry's gives him a look made of stone. "Say it's okay and I swear to God I will break your nose." 

And like always, it's weird for Nick to see Harry angry. Harry's always this positive, warm bubble of energy. He cries a lot, sure, but Nick secretly likes being able to comfort him so well. He's shit at comforting people, though with Harry, it's easy. He doesn't like Angry Harry, though. Doesn't like the empty threats and glares that Harry regrets later. They've gotten into a decent amount of arguments in the last few years, and Nick became prone to the way Harry would come into his room late at night and nuzzle his nose into Nick's neck as an apology. Nick never was the first to apologize, not even once.

"I was about to say it's going to be okay," Nick lies. He throws his keys on the coffee table and, without even thinking about it, crawls up onto the couch and takes Harry into his arms. He comes in from behind, hooks his arms around Harry and setting his chin on his shoulder. Harry doesn't seem to think about it too much when he wraps his arms around Nick's, either.

Harry's voice is low when he says, "Is it, though? Like, minus all the money and fame and shit, everything is really crappy right now." Harry sniffles, presses further into Nick. "My best friend hates me, my mum thinks I'm disgusting, and I've got a stupid fucking disease that's going to ruin the way I live forever. None of that's going to change, Nick. It's just going to hurt less over time."

Nick frowns and nudges Harry's neck with his nose. "Everything's super scary and raw right now, love. You've got to let it settle down."

They both move with Harry's shrug. "She told me not to call her again," he whispers, almost sounding dazed. "It's not like the last time I disappointed her. When I came out to her she only asked for a few days to herself. This time, she flat out told me not to call her again and not to come home."

"That's bullshit. You're her son and she loves you. She's just scared."

"I'm scared, and she," Harry toys with Nick's fingers distractedly. "she doesn't care."

Nick's quite sick of hearing Harry all sad and mopey. Harry's got every right to be upset, it's not that, it's just. Nick has finally seen Harry after months of being ghosted, and now he's here again. He's leaving again tomorrow, but right now he's here. He's here. 

"I really missed you," Nick admits quietly. He leans forward and catches Harry's earlobe in between his teeth before letting it go. Harry wriggles away from him, laughing gently, and Nick doesn't let him get far. He wraps his legs around Harry's to trap him. "You're supposed to say you missed me, too."

Harry makes a small noise. "Am I?"

"Think so."

He's quiet for a moment, like he's pretending to think about it. He doesn't need to think for very long, though. "I missed you. 'course I did. You know that." He outlines Nick's fingers with his own. "Or at least, you should. Because I did." The vulnerability of it all must make Harry antsy, because he's breaking the warm tension by saying, "Best fuck I ever had."

Nick squawks. "That's a lie, Styles, and you know it."

"I'm being serious."

In retaliation, Nick jabs his fingers into Harry's sides, tickling him. Harry groans miserably, tries desperately to escape Nick's torture. "You sleep with young, fit birds and blokes, no way I'm the best. That's an insult to everyone you've every stuck your dick in."

"Not jok - stop, Nick, oh my God - not kidding." Any minute now, Harry's flailing limbs are going to hurt someone. It's bound to happen, but they both ignore it.

"I'm old, Harry. I've got shit stamina and - "

"Do not - "

" - and I'm very selfish in bed, love." He moves his fingers from Harry's sides to his neck, which is where Harry's the most ticklish. Harry yowls, scrunching his neck and screeching now. "I bet Swifty - "

"Niiick, oh my goodness, stop." He's starting to sound a bit breathless now, so Nick begrudgingly stops. Harry's shoulders sag in relief. After taking a few moments to gather himself, he swivels around in Nick's nap, his hips against Nick's stomach and arms around his neck. "Nobody likes it as dirty as you do," Harry says, licking his lips.

Nick sets his hands on Harry's hips, rocking them towards him without thinking about it. That's why Nick likes it so much with Harry; he never has to think, everything just comes so naturally. "I dunno, love, that Jenner girl seems to be into some shit."

Harry laughs breathlessly, setting his forehead against his. "I wouldn't know. Wasn't actually sleeping with her. And if she was, she'd probably not be as demanding as you are."

"No?"

Harry shakes his head. "You're so fucking hard to please, Nick, you don't even realize it. Half the time we fuck, you've got me doing the fucking pretzel or some shit. Always make me hold out until after you come. 's a bit rude of you, as the host and all."

Nick's eyes drop to Harry's lips and he's about to kiss them before remembering the thing that brought them together in the first place. God, he's stupid sometimes. He hovers close to Harry, their lips almost bumping as he speaks. "What are the rules about sleeping with someone positive?" He pulls Harry closer as if to say that he'll do anything and that he's not trying to make him uncomfortable. 

Harry frowns anyways. He grabs the hairs at the nape of Nick's skull and yanks on them a little. "This is what I was talking about. You're not careful." He smooths over the hairs he just pulled on, his frown still there. "Smart people would be running for the hills."

"Good thing I'm not smart," Nick breathes out, bumping their noses together. His veins are buzzing in anticipation and want, and he's not had Harry in months. "C'mon, Haz. Seriously, I wanna do this, you just gotta tell me how to do it safely." Harry seems to be thinking carefully, and Nick pulls away a little, now frowning, too. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, obviously." He catches Harry's bottom lip that's being gnawed on by his teeth with his thumb, pulls on it gently. "This is about you, not me. Always is."

Harry pushes at Nick's hand before catching it in his own. "Don't say that. That's not how consent works."

Nick rolls his eyes fondly, bucking his hips gently to show Harry that he's definitely interested. "I'm just saying that, like, if you feel uncomfortable because of anything, we don't have to have sex."

Harry thinks on if for a second before pulling Nick closer. Their chests are now touching and Harry's pulling them backwards with his weight so that Nick needs to wrap an arm around his back to make sure he doesn't fall off the couch. "I'll blow you, yeah?"

Nick nods, because obviously yes. "That's safe, right?" He's stupid for putting so much blind trust in Harry's hands, and now he really does understand what Harry means by saying he's not careful. 

"Yeah. You can't get if from saliva, so." Harry's face scrunches up, smiling gently. "Sexy, right?"

Nick laughs, cupping one of Harry's cheek in his hand. There's a bit of nervous energy running through Nick's veins, like it had been his first time (and his first time with Harry). "You could be talking about erectile dysfunction and I'd still get turned on."

Granted, it sounded sweeter in Nick's head, but Harry still laughs gently, and it breaks the tension enough that Harry hunches down to kiss Nick. It's instantly rough and hungry, no preamble what so ever, and it pulls a surprised sound from Nick. He pulls away for a second just to tease Harry. "You've not had an action in weeks, have you, love?"

"Shut up," Harry groans. And Nick does as soon as Harry gets down on his knees and unzips his trousers.

 

In the end, Nick comes into Harry's mouth and Harry comes into his own hand. Afterwards, Harry slumps against Nick, breathing heavily as he rests his head against Nick's knee. Nick closes his eyes, drowning himself in the peaceful silence. 

Silence. That's. . . not normal. "Haz, where is my dog?" he asks, sitting up a little. He only now realizes she hadn't tackled him at the door, which just goes to show how out of it he is. This whole Harry thing's got his head twisted. 

It's not even that Harry's positive that's fucking him up. Yes, it's scary and shocking and it's definitely going to change how they both live from here on out, but that's not what has Nick's heart tightening. Harry's here and Nick was hell bent on never forgiving him for what he did. He let Harry blow him. Clearly, he's either weak or so, so in love. He doesn't know.

Harry glares up at him before wiping at his mouth and straightening his back. "That's exactly what I want to hear after I just blew you. Love it when you talk dirty to me, Nicholas." He manages to keep a straight face for approximately three seconds before his dorky smile breaks it. He gets to his feet, knees wobbling slightly. "I let her out a while ago. Probably should go let her in."

Nick nods, kicking at Harry's thighs as he walks away. "You best not have killed my dog."

"Please," Harry calls as he steps into the kitchen. "She's going to outlive you."

It's the truth, really. Nick's dog is some sort of mutant. 

When Harry gets back with Pig in tow, Nick decides he needs to figure things out before letting Harry predictably curl up into him and turn on the telly, acting like everything's normal. It's just. . . that's exactly what Harry does, and who is Nick to mess with destiny?

About half hour into watching Game of Thrones, Harry begins to get lost in thought, judging by the way he keeps tapping Nick's hip distractedly. It's gentle taps, so Nick could easily ignore them, but he doesn't. "You all right?"

Harry hums, shoving his face deeper into Nick's neck. His legs are draped over Nick's torso like an octopus, his feet dangling off the edge of the couch. "Just thinking."

He moves to run his knuckles against Harry's thigh. "About what?"

Harry doesn't talk for a few minutes, thinking. He's got a crease in between his eyebrows and Nick wants to reach out and smooth it, but he doesn't. Finally, he takes a breath. "Just, like. I don't want to tell anybody else. Everybody who needs to know right now knows."

"Okay. . ."

"But at the same time, I don't want to be hiding behind it. Like, I don't want it to be this secret I carry around my entire life and never tell anyone. There's enough shit I have to keep quiet about, I don't want another thing."

It's understandable, but it's just not realistic. Harry's a world-famous popstar. "It might have to be, since you're famous and all. If you aren't careful about who you tell, the press will get their hands on it and turn you into some poster child for HIV. I know you don't want that."

"I don't." He sounds sad.

"Live in the moment, yeah? Don't worry about it right now. Like you said: everybody who needs to know already knows. Don't complicate it any further."

Harry nods, his nose digging against Nick's shoulder. "Sounds all philosophical and shit, so it must be worth something." Nick chuckles a little. "Don't tell anybody, please. I know it's dumb to ask because you're good at keeping secrets about me, but. Just thought I should say it."

Nick tenses. He's already gone and fucked that up. "Um," he says awkwardly, not sure how to say it. How to let Harry down gently. "I kind of already told Fiona."

Harry sits up to look at him. His eyes are full of betrayal. "I told you yesterday. How did you already tell someone?" Before Nick can answer, Harry keeps talking. "God, Nick. Fiona knows better than to say anything, but - did you tell her privately? Could somebody have overheard? You work at a fucking radio shack, Nick. Rumors run rampant there."

Nick feels terrible. He didn't think about it, wasn't thinking at all, really. He was angry and upset and sad, but he wasn't thinking. He should've thought it through, shouldn't have told that to Fiona out of place of anger. It's too late now. It's not like he can take it back.

"Nick, everybody already fucking knows. I told you that yesterday. I already had to tell ninety percent of my friends because I fucking slept with all of them. Aimee already knows, you know, and now Fiona knows. If I ever do an interview there again, I'm going to be surrounded by everybody who knows, and - "

"Love," Nick interrupts, gentle. He knows he deserves to be yelled at right now, but he hates seeing Harry so worked up. "She won't tell anybody else, I know it. And everybody at my work loves you, this won't change it."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Please. I already got a fucking ear-full from pretty much all your co-workers after I left for tour. They don't love me."

"Yes, they do, Harry. They love you because I love you, they won't care about any of it when they realize we are on good terms again." Harry's staring at him intently. It makes him nervous, make his words spin around in his head too fast and come out wrong. "They're just over-protective, all right? I know that. I was really overwhelmed this morning, and Fiona was nagging me about you. She couldn't understand why I forgave you, so I just blurted it out."

Something changes in Harry's face. He visibly retracts, miles and miles of walls going up in seconds. He clenches his jaw, then releases it. "You only forgave me because I'm positive?" His lip wobbles, and his teeth catch it harshly. "I don't want to be forgiven just because I've gone and got some stupid STD. That's not fair, Nick. I thought - " He cards a hand through his hair. "I thought that you forgave me because I explained to you why I left."

Nick gapes, not sure how one conversation can turn around so many times. First Harry was crying, and then they were fucking around, and then they were lazily watching the telly and now they're fighting. He's almost dizzy with it. "I forgave you because you came back," he says hurriedly, not thinking about it.

"I came back because I needed to tell you to get tested. I stayed because I thought you forgave me. I - fuck, Nick. I was supposed to be in LA for these two days, working things out for the hiatus. But I canceled because I thought you were giving me a second chance."

"I am, Harry. I am."

"Not for the right reasons."

Everything inside of Nick is bubbling over, begging to be released. He settles it, though. He knows exactly what Harry is getting at. He hears in the tone of his voice, the desperation to leave.  "If you want to go, go. Don't use me fucking up as an excuse to leave. I'm not that stupid."

Harry looks caught. He opens his mouth to defend himself, and then quickly shuts it again. "I don't know what you're talking about," is what he decides on.

Nick laughs. "God, I didn't even see it coming this time. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice. . ." he trails off, looking away. "You're scared again, I disappointed you. I get it. And you're still a kid and every instinct inside of you is telling you to run. So just fucking do it, Harry. Go. We all know I'll be waiting here for when you get back."

"No, that's not - " Harry makes a strangled noise. "You know I fucking hate when you call me a kid just because you're mad. It's not fair and it's not true."

"You're turning this on me again." He's quite proud of himself, actually. He caught Harry's eyes flickering towards the door, felt him resigning. He's not going to crumble this time, even if he thought Harry was going to leave tomorrow morning on good terms with Nick.

"Stop fucking psychoanalyzing me." He gets to his feet, angry. "I'm scared, yes. But I'm not running away because of that, I'm running away because you keep fucking scaring me."

"That doesn't even make sense! You come here, five months of radio silence, I let you in and forgive you. I find out you tested positive three weeks after you did, I forgive you. I let you sleep in my bed, forgetting about everything you did. I comforted you and, over and over, and did not complain once. You've fucked up so many times over the years - "

Harry's cheeks burn red. "I have not - "

"Yes, you have! And guess what, Harry? We all do it. We all are selfish sometimes, but you - shit, you're about the most selfish person I've ever met. But I forgive you for it because I love you and I know you are a good person. I fuck up once by telling a close friend about what's going on in my personal life because I'm freaking out, and you think that's good enough reason to cut and run?"

Harry's close to tears, but Nick's way passed the point of caring. "I never ask for you to forgive me. I never asked for you to love me." Nick stares at him blankly. "You telling Fiona is - "

" - the same as you telling Aimee," Nick finishes for him. "It's the same thing, Harry. So stop, for one minute, and think. If me loving you actually scared you, you wouldn't have canceled those meetings in LA. You wouldn't have even come here, you would've called me like you called everybody else."

"I don't want you staying with me because you pity me, Nick. Why is that so hard to understand?"

Nick smiles gently, finally letting go of his anger. "Why would I stay with you because of a STD? In what world does that make sense? You said it yourself: most guys would be running if they found out that you were positive. I didn't, though. And that scares you because you don't know what it means."

"It means you're a bloody idiot."

"It means that I'm in love with you."

Harry shakes his head, stepping back. He looks away for a second before wiping at his nose with his elbow. "Don't say that." It's less of a request and more of a plea. "I can't do this right now, not on top of everything else. Jesus, Nick." He takes a few more steps backwards before he turns around all together. He takes an audibly deep breath, grabs his jacket off of Nick's couch, and heads to the door. 

Nick swears he can actually feel his heart crumble when Harry opens the door. Not even Pig gets up, the whole moment silent. 

Harry turns around, sniffling. "I'm not leaving. I just need a few hours to. . . to think, I guess. Is that okay?"

Nick nods. "Of course it is." So long as you come back.

He doesn't know what Harry thinks about to his few hours to himself. He doesn't know if Harry ever actually planned on coming back. All he does know is that when it finally strikes midnight and Harry still hasn't returned is that his heart is shattered, and he let the same boy do it twice.

 

Life goes on, surprisingly. Harry does his stupid tour without a single word sent to Nick, and Nick does his everyday routine every day until it gets easier. After a few months, it feels like Harry never even came back. The only evidence Nick has of Harry's return is the envelope with his test results in it that he left by accident on Nick's bedside. 

(Upon further investigation, his test results aren't the only thing in the envelope. There's a wordy, informational pamphlet on HIV and AIDS, that's what Nick reads first. He doesn't feel bad about it because he's learning.

The next thing is a long list of names. Taylor, Louis, Ben, Camille, Georgia are only a few names listed, their names crossed out. Nick's name is at the top with a star next to it. (Louis and Taylor are the only other ones with a star on it. Nick knows Harry only slept with Taylor once, so the stars can't be for who he's slept with the most. It's probably for who was going to be the hardest to tell, or who he's closest to.)  He's the only name not crossed out. He feels a little bad reading Harry's long list of sex partners, but he couldn't help it.

The last thing in the envelope is a folded letter with Nick's name in the front of it written in Harry's giant, stupid handwriting. Nick opened it, read the first few lines (Dear Nick, I don't know how to say this, and I know I should be telling you this in person. Two hours ago I just found out I have HIV, and. . .), but that's as far as he let himself get. He feels wrong reading it, knowing Harry went back on his words and came to see Nick in person.)

Besides all of that, there's not a trace that Harry ever came back. It should make him feel better, but it makes him feel worse. It'd be easier if he could talk about it with his friends, but after Harry telling him that he got shit for breaking Nick's heart the first time, he refuses to tell them anything other than he left on good terms with him. 

Now, though, he's thriving again. He's going out almost every night like he's twenty, getting drunk and screwing young college boys (while wearing a condom, don't worry). He feels happiness bubble in his chest for no real reason at all and he laughs loudly and genuinely. He's good again. 

So of course Harry Styles arse is planted on a bar stool at the same bar Nick Grimshaw and his kind-of-boyfriend-not-really Ryan are at. Of course, because why wouldn't he be?

Nick spots him right away. It would be hard not to, really; everyone notices the cute but sad looking bloke sitting by themselves at the bar as soon as they walk in. Maybe that's why Harry's doing it, and by it he means wearing a long face and these glossy, puppy dug eyes that make Nick's heart hurt. 

"I'll go get us some drinks," Ryan says, smiling radiantly at Nick. "Go find the rest?"

Nick nods, managing to conceal his wince as Ryan kisses him. It's not that he doesn't like Ryan, it's just. Well. He's a bloody intern at his job that he slept with once. He's young and stupid, much like a certain someone else, and thinks that they are in a serious relationship because of it now. 

When Nick finds his friends, all sitting around a booth, laughing loudly, they are already insanely intoxicated and screeching at the sight of him. 

"Oh, Nick!" Aimee greets, pulling him down into the seat next to her. "Hiya, love!"

He smiles, stripping her roaming hands off him. "Hello, Aims."

"You didn't bring that God-awful lad Ryan with you, did ya?" she asks, passing him her bottle of beer. 

"Hey, be nice. He's a good kid."

Fiona barks out a laugh across from him. "Why can you say that about everybody you fuck? The kid part, not the nice part; half of them are bloody pricks."

He sighs. She's got a point. "I just mean that's he's young, that's all. He's plenty legal, though, thanks for the concern." 

Ryan comes back with four shots in hand. Nick scoots over to make room for him, and Aimee and Fiona giggle like middle-schoolers. He shoots them a look.

"Didn't you say you used to fool around with that Harry guy? The one in the band?" Ryan asks, completely oblivious to the way everybody tenses. "He's at the bar."

Nick ignores everybody's judgmental stares. Team Grimmy all the way, they are, even if they don't know the score. "You didn't say hi, did you?"

Ryan looks caught. His eyes go wide, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Was I not supposed to?" Everybody releases a small, collective sigh. Ryan squawks. "I didn't know! All I said is that I was a friend of yours. He seemed nice, he bought us our drinks!" Ryan waves his hand at the drinks in front of them, exasperated.

"It's fine," Nick says, mood killed. 

Ryan keeps trying to make it better. "That's really all I said, Nick. He just laughed and told us to have a good time, that's it. He got up and left as soon as he ordered our drinks."

It sends a wave of pain through Nick's veins. "Did he say where he was going?"

He shakes his head. "No. He grabbed his jacket and wallet, though. I think he's going home."

Nick toys with the knowledge for a few seconds, debating what he should do. He tells himself he shouldn't go after Harry, but Harry was here first. He didn't have to leave to please Nick. It takes a total of five seconds and a shot for him to make his decision. "I should go talk to him."

"No," Fiona says instantly. Nick looks at her. "No, Nick. He doesn't deserve you."

"You don't know him, Fi." He stands up, and motions for Ryan to move so he can get out of the booth. "Don't give me that look. I'm just going to go outside and telling him he doesn't have to leave." 

He quickly makes his escape, brushing across Ryan's legs as he goes. He ignores the burning in his lungs and Aimee's call of "you're gonna look desperate, Nicholas!" and speed-walks towards the exit, hoping Harry hasn't left yet. 

Maybe it's a blessing, maybe it's a curse, but Harry is still sitting in his black Range Rover when he gets to the parking lot. Since the nights only really just began in bars, there's not too many people out in the parking lot. Nick gets closer and closer to the car, wondering what he wants out of this. He's about five feet away when Harry slams his hand on the steering wheel.

It very nearly scares the shit out of Nick, the severity of it.

As Harry continues to pummel the poor, expensive steering wheel, it's clear his moves are made with the force of anger. He hits the wheel about four or five times before finally grabbing it and hunching forward. He starts to cry, judging by the way his shoulders shake and he clenches his eyes shut. 

Nick's frozen in his steps for about half a second. He musters up the courage to move when the feeling in his feet comes back. Bitten by the cold air of the night, he walks around Harry's car and heads to the passenger's side. Only half of him hopes that Harry backs up into him and runs him over. 

Like an idiot, Harry doesn't have his doors locked so Nick welcomes himself in. The air inside seems wrong and tense, almost suffocating as Nick sits in the passenger's seat.

Harry, spooked, jumps and his hands fling for the handle on his side. When he sees it's Nick, he settles down slightly. His features are drawn up worriedly, but his anger and sorrow is still noticeable. "You can't just do that, what the fuck."

Nick laughs nervously. Maybe knocking would've been a better option. "You're a popstar. You're lucky I wasn't a crazy fan jumping in for a ride."

Harry doesn't laugh. He looks at him with tired eyes. "I left so I wouldn't bother you."

Nick can't help himself, Harry practically forced his next words. "Which time?"

It's cruel and maybe unfair, Nick knows that. But that doesn't mean he expects Harry to hunch in on himself and start crying again. He sounds so hurt and so, so tired. Anybody with eyes would be concerned about him in this state. 

"I'm so sorry, Nick," Harry cries, hiding his face with his hand. "I'm so fucking sorry, I - fuck, I had every single intention of coming back that night I just couldn't. I couldn't." A painful sob rips through his chest. "I can't, I can't - "

"Hey," Nick murmurs softly, leaning towards him. He sets a comforting hand on Harry's thigh. "I'm not angry anymore. I don't know why I said that."

"You should be," Harry argues. "You should want me dead by now." 

"Don't talk like that," he says sternly, gripping Harry's thigh roughly. "I'd never want that. No matter what you did."

Harry shakes his head and cards a hand through his hair. He pulls his other hand from his face, revealing his broken exterior. "I'm okay, just let me calm down. I've had a really shit day."  His youth fades, then. He looks like a full-blown man pulling himself together. It's odd. 

Nick lets him calm down by himself, though he cringes every time a sharp breath and sniffle hits his ears. He looks outside while Harry wipes his cheeks clean. It takes a few minutes, but Harry starts to breathe normally again.

"Okay," he says, breaking the silence. "Say whatever you want to say."

Nick frowns, looking back at him. Harry's staring straight forward as he prepares to be yelled at. Maybe Nick wants to yell and shout simply to be petty and get some dignity back, but that's not going to help either of them in the long wrong. He decides to be an adult about this and asks, "Why was your day shit?"

Harry looks at him sharply, almost looking offended. "Stop," he demands, "you don't actually care."

"I do. I asked, didn't I?"

Harry studies him carefully for a few minutes before looking at the wall of the bar again. "Called my mum this morning for the first time since your house. It's been three months, I thought she would want to talk to me." He takes in a deep breath. "She answered and told me she loved me, but that she can't do it, and to stop calling."

Nick closes his eyes. "Fuck, Haz."

He laughs bitterly. "I know. And then I was sad, and I realized as I sat in my million-dollar home that I didn't have anyone to call to make me feel better. Literally nobody. Well, Niall and Liam would've answered, but they are kind of Team Louis, so they wouldn't have had much sympathy."

You could've called me, hangs unsaid but heavy in the air.

"So then I said fuck it. I was going to call Louis. Talk to him about things. We've been off tour for a week, so I thought he'd be able to sort things out in his head. He answered, agreed to hang out, and when I picked up to take him to my house, he sat down, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, 'Sorry, Harry. It'd be better if we didn't talk much. We were never good at being just friends,' and then got out of my car and went back inside."

Nick clenches his jaw. Fucking Tomlinson. "I thought I smelled cockroach."

Harry doesn't laugh. He doesn't look like he could if he tried. "So then I went back home and saw that my assistant called. I knew it was going to be bad, but I called her back anyways. She told me someone named Dean wanted to talk to me and asked if she should pass my number through."

Nick tries to remember if he knows anyone called Dean, but no one comes to mind. It's weird; he knows the majority of Harry's friends, either through tabloids or through him. "Dean?"

He nods, and then a hysteric laugh bubbles from his chest. "Dean Chavez is that guy that gave me HIV. Can you believe it? A guy named Dean Chavez. It's fucking hilarious."

"It's not." He doesn't know what else to say. Harry isn't acting right, not like himself at all. But how could Nick to act like himself when he's a terrible, terrible day? That'd be unfair. Still, he doesn't like this side of Harry.  

"You know I don't even remember him?" Harry looks at him wildly, eyes frantic. "The name sounded familiar when I heard it, but that was it. His voice, the night he described - all of it was new to me. He apologized and told me that he thought he could've had it, but he wasn't sure." He laughs again. It sounds so wrong. "Guess he knows for sure now." He throws his head back against the seat, stress radiating off of him like crazy. "All that shit I said about it being my fault? I fucking take it all back."

Nick stares at him, his heart breaking for Harry. That's, like, a record shit day to have. It's literally the worst things that could happen to him piled up in a few short hours - no wonder why he looked so sad at the bar. No wonder why he was at a bar by himself in the first place. He digs his fingers into Harry's knee cap, not sure what else to do or say. He certainly can't tell Harry everything's okay, or even going to be. He can't be sure of that at this point.

"There's so many things I'd take back if I could." Harry's looking at him again, tears in his eyes. He sounds desperate, lonely. "If I didn't pick a guy named Dean fucking Chavez to go have sex with, everything would be okay. It was one night, Nick. Probably only lasted five minutes. And now my life is destroyed because of it."

Nick won't say it's okay, not anymore. He won't tell Harry that his life isn't destroyed, because maybe it is. Not because of the disease, no; Nick's done some research on it, and from what he gathers, HIV isn't all too threatening anymore. It's the people who destroyed Harry's life, their reactions. Harry's lost his best mate, his mum, and quite possibly future partners who won't fuck around with someone who is positive. It's funny (there's that word again), that humans can be more harmful than a disease. 

"And I'm still really upset you told Fiona I'm positive," Harry sniffles. It's out of the blue and pales in comparison to everything else, but it still makes Nick feel guilty. 

"I shouldn't have, I know."

Harry curls his arms around his body, maybe to shield himself from the cold night, maybe to shield himself from Nick. "It's like coming out, kind of. It's mine to tell. I don't even really care that Fiona knows, it's just. I want to tell people myself. Choose who gets to know." Harry smiles bitterly. "So many secrets to keep, I'm nearly drowning in them."

Personally, Nick is shit at keeping secrets. But Harry knows that by now, doesn't he? "I haven't told anybody else." It's silent in the car after that and it makes Nick's skin crawl, so he's got to fill it somehow. He's not sure what to say to Harry, who's blankly staring out the front window. He looks dead, almost. Might feel like it, too. He squeezes Harry's knee again, and it makes him jump. "Take me home with you. We can talk more there." On second thought, "Wait, how pissed are you?"

Harry rolls his eyes. It's meant to be playful, Nick thinks, but it turns sharp and cold. "I had a few beers, I'm fine to drive. And I'm not taking you anywhere with me if you plan on doing more than talking. I don't think I'm ever going to have sex again."

Well, that's just a bold lie. Harry's a bit sex-crazed, no way he's going celibate now. Maybe this whole thing will slow him down a bit, knock his dates from twenty different people a month to one like normal people, but Harry Styles wouldn't give up sex for anything. "You're sad. Wouldn't do anything with you when you're this sad," he settles on, though it's not what he really wants to say.

"I'm not sad," Harry argues. Despite himself, his voice breaks and he laughs a little at himself. "'kay fine, whatever. A bit sad. But let's not pretend that's the reason you wouldn't have sex with me." He pulls the keys out of his pocket and jams them into the ignition, twists them and brings the car to life. He goes to start backing out, like Nick would actually let that slide.

"Hey," he says gently, moving his hand from Harry's knee to his hand on the steering wheel. Harry freezes, doesn't look at Nick at all. "There's, like, prevention pills or whatever that your partner can take so they don't get it. I've looked into it, and I'd be comfortable doing it if you would be." He's about to say I'm sure there's a lot of blokes who'd do that for you, but Harry cuts him off before he can even start. 

"Awfully presumptuous of you, don't you think?" The stare Nick receives is fierce and angry. "We aren't partners, Nick. Boyfriends, fuck buddies, whatever. None of that. We're two mates who've fucked a few times. We've tried to make a thing twice, and it fell through twice, so don't you think it's time to give up on it?"

A small bomb of pain drops and explodes in Nick's stomach. That's. . . "I was just offering," he says lamely. "Like how you just offered to be the bloke that Louis cheats on his girlfriend with." It's mean, but Harry was mean first, so kindly fuck off.  

"Don't fucking talk about Louis right now, okay?" Nick stupidly retracts his hand from Harry's, puts in his lap and ignores the way Harry looks hurt by it. He doesn't have a right to be, Nick doesn't have to put up with all this wishy-washy bullshit. "I don't need your fucking charity, Nick. And Louis doesn't even like Eleanor, and no, that doesn't make it any less wrong, but I was just trying to help him become comfortable with himself. So fuck off, would you?"

"I have a table full of friends waiting for me to come back," Nick fires back, "one of them I'm fucking, and no, I don't need to take any fucking pills to do it. But here the fuck I am, sitting in your stupid car because you were sad. And yeah, what we had was fucked over twice, by you. Both times. And here you are, fucking it up again." He scoffs, reaches for the door. "Do not dare come to me when you realize you don't have anybody. Yeah, maybe Anne and Louis ditched you because of the test results, but you had a shit ton of problems before that, too. You're gonna have more days like today, when you have nobody to call when you're sad, and I'm going to be fucking glad I dodged a bullet." He curses under his breath, shoves open the car door too roughly, and he's so ready to slam it, but Harry grabs a hold of his arm. He considers pushing him back, ignoring him, but Harry's voice sounds so small when he says his name. 

"Don't leave me, I'm sorry. Please come home with me."

He can do it this time, Nick thinks to himself. He can officially cut Harry out of his life and leave, go have fun with a room full of people who actually know they want him. Surely, he can find another bloke to fall in love with, it doesn't have to be Harry. Harry's selfish and ungrateful, and he doesn't even realize how much pain he puts Nick through. He can do it this time. He let Harry walk out on him twice, he's not going to let it happen a third time. Nick's going to be the one who walks away unscathed. 

That night, he does walk away. He shuts the door gently once Harry lets go of him instead of slamming it and walks back into the place of people who actually love him. He only looks back once, sees Harry sobbing against his steering well. It could be the last thing he sees of Harry, sobbing and broken, he realizes on his way to the hospital at 4:17 am when he gets a call from Anne.

"Nick? Nick, oh god. He's been hurt. Harry's been hurt, Nick. I. . . get to St. Mary's as fast as you can, okay? He's going to be fine, there's been no serious injuries, but god, Nick. He's not going to want to see any of us. I don't want him waking up with nobody here that he would want to see. Please, come be with your boy."

Hours ago, he thought getting rid of Harry for good would be a good thing for him. Hours ago, he told himself he wasn't going to get hurt by the same stupid kid. Hours ago, he should've stayed. 

 

Louis, Liam, Anne, Gemma, and Robin are all in the waiting room when Nick arrives. He doesn't have to go through the hassle of frantically explaining to the nurse who he is and who he's here to see, because Anne quickly collects him and leads him to where everybody's sat. As soon as they see him, they all stand like he's something to be honored. Like he's a doctor with all the answers they're undoubtedly waiting for. 

"What happened?" Nick asks to nobody in particular. He just needs to know. He left Harry sad and hopeless, what if. . . "Stop staring at me and answer me."

Liam scrubs a hand over his face, sits back down. The others follow suit, like they are one united unit. "He got in a car wreck on his way home from. . . somewhere, no one knows."

Nick's head hurts. "Last I heard from him, he was just about to leave a bar." Nick sinks down into a chair beside Louis, who looks the worst out of all of them. What if Harry went back inside and Nick didn't see him? Nick left the bar around three in the morning, what if Harry came back and drank himself to nothing and drove again? He should've taken his fucking keys. 

"What time was that?" Anne asks quickly. "We're trying to put together a timeline. He, god, he was a mile away from home."

 A mile. So close. Nick feels slow, but he forces himself to swallow thickly and answer. "Early. Ten o'clock, I'd say. But we had a fight, he was. God, he was upset. What if - "

"It's not your fault," Louis says quietly next to him. He sounds tired and awfully small, smaller than Harry did earlier in the night. "Some bloke ran a stop sign. He doesn't have much alcohol in his system, so it wouldn't have fucked with his reflexes bad enough to not react properly. Wasn't his fault at all. Not yours, either."

"The other guy. . ." He feels so, so distant. Harry's fine, he's okay, but it's as though it's not enough, like Nick doesn't deserve for him to be okay. "Is he. . .?"

Gemma barks out a small, bitter laugh. "He was well enough to flee the scene. Left Harry there, passed out and bleeding. Harry's got a few cuts and bruises from the glass, and a bit of a mighty concussion. A broken arm, too. Jesus Christ."

"It's okay now, love," Anne says, coddling her. Doing the exact same thing Harry needed from her for the last few months. "He's alright."

"Until he wakes up," Nick snaps, can't help it. Louis closes his eyes next to him, knowing he's about to be yelled next and Anne just looks shocked, faking innocence. "He had both you and Louis duck out of his life for forever on the same day. And now you two think you can waltz in here and be sad? Be here for him? No, you don't." He shakes his head, impossibly angry. "Louis at least had a decent reason; he has his own shit to work through. But you? God, Anne. You are his mother and all he did was tell you he liked girls and boys. He could've died at any of the moments you were telling him not to call, and what would you have done then?"

Anne's mouth is hanging open, but she doesn't say anything. Gemma, though, is furious, and maybe Robin is a bit, too. "That's not true," Gemma spits accusingly. "Is it, Mum? Did you really tell him not to call?"

She at least has the decency to look guilty now. 

Gemma shakes her head and stands up, stomping away after telling Liam to call her if anything changes. Robin quickly rises to go after her, gives Anne a short, "What did you do? He's our son," before going after Gemma. In response, Anne lets out a small cry and rushes off somewhere else, and then there were three. 

Nick should probably feel like a giant tit, staring fights in a hospital waiting room, but he doesn't. He doesn't feel bad at all. Anne deserved it, and she knows her reaction is something to be ashamed of if she didn't tell Gemma and Robin about it. He doesn't feel bad, but he does feel a bit awkward when everything's said and done. 

To fill the silence, Nick asks, "When is he supposed to be awake?"

Liam shrugs, not looking at Nick directly. "It's up to him, really. He's just sleeping."

He nods. He can wait a few hours to fix things with Harry. Totally. "Where's Niall?"

"Ireland," Louis tells him. He opens his eyes again and sits up right. "Nobody's got a hold of him yet, but we're going to tell him to just stay home. There's no point in flying all the way over here if he's okay."

Nick would still come in a heartbeat if he were Niall. It wouldn't matter if he was on a boat in the middle of nowhere or starving in a desert somewhere, he'd come, especially after the fight he had with Harry earlier. That stupid, stupid fight. Please come home with me could've been the last words he ever heard from Harry and telling Harry that he dodged a bullet by not trying things again would've been Nick's last words to him, and hell. That'd be bloody awful, even if Harry was being a massive pain in the ass, lashing out at the wrong person because he was angry. Nick had a right to be mad, but now it all seems a bit silly. 

"I wasn't wrong, you know," Louis says out of nowhere. He looks at Nick sharply. But no, Nick doesn't know. "About me and Haz not being able to be just friends. We never could quite figure it out."

"Because you two idiots kept shagging after breaking it off," Nick answers, none too sympathetic. "Most people stop doing that, you know, after they break up and everything. You've never tried to be just friends with him."

Louis frowns when Nick expected him to get angry. "You seem to think you know a lot."

"I do know a lot," he argues. He's tired, he certainly doesn't want to be arguing with another popstar so early in the morning. They're exhausting, every single one of them. Even the ones laying a million miles away in a hospital bed. "He tells me everything. Everything. Stuff I don't even care about, like what Niall had for breakfast. Even when we aren't speaking, he fills in all the blanks when he comes back 'round."

Louis seems to take that, as he decides not to argue. Liam, though, turns his head to peer at Nick. Nick's about to start squirming under his gaze until he finally says something. "He did treat you a bit shit, I'll say."

Nick snorts. Believe him, he knows. 

"But he does love you." His lips are quirked in a bit of a smile, a tired one at that. "In love with you, I mean. He just. I don't know. He gets scared and runs. It's not an excuse, I know, but it's the truth. He's so paranoid he's going to disappoint you that he does it ahead of time. He's a bit backwards, I guess."

Louis nods next to him. "You're going to be the first person he asks for when he wakes up. Don't think that doesn't mean something."

He won't, Nick thinks. Not with Anne and Louis here, not with his sister and best mate being here. Liam thinks too much and Louis' big on the romantics, he decides. He doesn't doubt Harry is at least a little in love with him, which sounds terribly selfish, but there's no other reason to have come back a second time. He told Nick they should give up on them, and Harry didn't sound like he meant it even a little. It's comforting.

 

They're right, it turns out. 

Louis and Nick are playing a two-player game on Louis' phone ("you're bloody awful, mate," "you're the one who can't score on - oh fuck you"). Liam's decided to take the opportunity and stretch across the two hard, plastic chairs and close his eyes. Gemma's asleep on Robin's shoulder, and Anne's not yet returned from wherever she stormed off to. They resemble the skeleton of a dysfunctional family, and it's sickening, really. 

"Harry Styles?" a small woman with frail skin asks. She seems to have appeared out of nowhere, but her presence causes all of them to stand. She smiles warmly, probably a little surprised at the entourage. Harry's just a bit banged up yet there's a room full of people here acting like he's done himself in. "You'll be pleased to know that Mr. Styles woke up a few minutes ago. He's not displaying any concerning symptoms and he should have a speedy recovery process from here and out. We want to keep him for the next twenty-four hours so we can monitor his concussion, but by this time tomorrow we she should make be able to release him or at least give you an exact time we can. Any questions?"

They all shake their heads even though they are all dying to see him. 

"Great," she chirps. "Visiting hours end in about twenty minutes or so, but since he just woke, we'll give you lot a bit more time. One person at a time, please, and refrain from asking him too many questions or talking about stressful topics." She looks down at her clipboard for a second before nodding. "Is there a Nick here?"

Instantly, Nick's throat dries, and everybody's eyes are on him. "Um, yeah. That's me." He almost feels like he's back in school and has just been called out by one of his teachers. 

"I don't mean to intrude, and you all can do things however you'd like, but he's asked about you a few times." She smiles a little wider. "A lot more than a few times. It might be best for you to go in first since we don't want him under distress or anything."

Nick nods, avoids Liam's gaze that's burning two holes in the side of his head. "Can you show me to his room?"

She warns him that he might be a bit out of it from his pain meds, but when he walks into Harry's room, he looks absolutely miserable. His eyebrows are furrowed and his head is laid back against the pillow with his eyes shut. He's taking small, shallow breaths and he lets out quiet whine when he the door shuts maybe too loudly. 

"How badly does it hurt?" Nick asks. He hates seeing him in pain, hates the way Harry's hand is trying not to clutch at his head, probably from the thrumming of pain winding through his brain. 

Harry opens his eyes blearily and blinks for a few seconds. He turns his head to the side, tries to smile. "Hey," he rasps out. "Feels terrible."

"Can't you ask for more pain meds?" Nick's more worried than he probably should be, especially considering Harry's okay. He's wearing a terribly ugly, white, bulky cast on his left arm and he briefly wonders how many dicks Louis will draw on it, but other than that, he's fine. He pulls up a seat next to Harry's bed, and he wants to grab Harry's hand, but he distinctly remembers being shouted at that they aren't boyfriends, so he lets his hand hang lamely in his lap.  

Harry shakes his head once. "They said I have to wait a little bit, that they don't want me becoming dependent on them or something." Nick's confused, but Harry huffs and explains. "Think management got a hold of them. Fucking bastards. Louis and Zayn are the ones with the drug problems, not me."

Nick laughs but stops when Harry shoots him an unhappy glare that comes off more like an angry kitten. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, love. They're here, if that makes it any better." Harry tense, and fuck it, Nick reaches for the hand that isn't wrapped in plaster. Harry tangles their fingers loosely without a moment's hesitation. "Your mum, Louis, Gem, Robin, Liam. They're all here. You're quite popular, I suppose."

Harry frowns. It makes Nick's heart clench. "Mum doesn't want to see me. Neither does Lou."

"Louis has been proper worried all day," Nick corrects. "Anne, well. I'm not sure where she ran off to, but I suspect Gemma's ringing her now to tell her you're up."

"Oh," is all Harry says.

"Oh," Nick echoes, because that's his pathetic attempt to fill the void of silence that's undoubtedly going to come, and no, Nick doesn't want to deal with that. He doesn't want experience those few seconds of Harry staring at him with his stupidly perfected puppy-eyes, like he's doing right now, and shit. He talks for a living; he must be able to find something to say. "The internet is going to freak when the Sun gets their teeth into this."

Harry just stares at him.

Nick blabbers on. "There's going to be a manhunt for that bloke who ditched you. A proper rebellion and everything; those fans of yours won't stop until they have his head on a pointy, fiery stick, and - "

"I'm sorry," Harry says, cutting him off. Nick freezes. "I've fucked up literally every single chance you've given me, and I don't," and god, he's nears tears, and Nick's so not equipped for this, "I don't deserve to be given another one, probably ever again, but fuck, I want one."

Nick blinks, mouth too dry to speak. This isn't how he expected this to go. 

"Maybe I am as selfish as you say I am for wanting another shot, but I don't care." He laughs, wet and sad. "That makes me selfish too, I guess. That I don't care that I'm selfish." He watches Harry's face contort with a flash of sadness and then as quickly as it came, it's gone. Harry's trying to take ownership of his actions, trying to show Nick he can be more than a guest at his very own pity party. It's. . . unsettling, kind of. This is the same boy he's been fucking on and off since Harry was nineteen. And he's not nineteen anymore, far from it; he's all sharp angels and filled out body and muscles that weren't there before. To go from fucking for a handful of years to maybe-possibly-actually dating, is scary. It's terrifying. And for Harry to be able to sit here and say he wants that - something so, so terrifying - is refreshing, because Harry Styles doesn't do scary, doesn't do permanent. But he's willing to do both of those for Nick. With Nick. He's willing to be the adult he is in this relationship. 

So Nick does the thing adults do: he doesn't talk out his feelings or express how scared he was when he got that stupid call, he just rushes forward and kisses Harry. His fingers fumble in his lap stupidly, but he's not thinking about that because Harry is kissing him back, and maybe they shouldn't be doing this when Harry tastes like hospital and bad liquor, but they are, and Nick doesn't care. Because he deserves this. They both do. 

\- - - - 

The first time they fuck (because it feels like a new beginning and like it's appropriate to let go of all those late night booty calls), it's exactly a month since those cliché confessions of love in a hospital room and Harry is absolutely bricking it. Nick keeps telling him that it's okay, that he can't be hurt because he's on this prep thing he still doesn't exactly understand. All he knows is that since he's taken it, he can fuck Harry without getting HIV and as much as he loves Harry - and he really, really does - he still doesn't want that. Harry's hands are trembling everywhere they touch Nick like he could break, like he's made of glass. There's a new set of nerves and uncertainty that's never been there with Harry but it's good, almost - almost like this is actually their first time together. But it's not, because Nick already knows that Harry's favorite spot is underneath his jaw and it calms both of them down a little.

Trust is the main factor in all of this, so it's really no shock Harry's having a hard time with it. He's getting better with letting Nick in, because as it turns out, knowing what Niall Horan had for breakfast this morning is a lot different than knowing Harry has a gigantic fear of abandonment and of never finding satisfaction in live. It's odd; Nick thought he knew everything there is to know about Harry, but he hasn't, had barely reached the surface level until now.

"I love you," Harry whispers, voice wavering on every syllable. He's settled for wrapping his arms tight around Nick's shoulders, which does wonders for straightening out Nick's head since he doesn't have to watch Harry's hands shake. And it really should be stupid, Harry saying 'I love you' properly for the first time during sex, but it's not. Technically, it's not exactly sex yet because Nick only has two fingers fumbling around inside of Harry, and it's not like Nick didn't know Harry loved him. Maybe all the pieces are coming together in Harry's head right now, but Nick knew. Harry wouldn't trust him with this unless he didn't love him. 

When all is said and done, and Harry is too blissed out to worry anymore, they make a small home under the covers, and it's safe here. Here, they don't have to worry about the fact Harry and Louis still haven't talked things through and his mum refuses to talk about boys "like that". Here, Nick doesn't worry too much about the fact Harry's going to leave for tour again soon and everything could easily fall apart in a blink of an eye. They'll deal with all of that when Nick's heart stops hammering in his chest and he's rid of all this sweat, and even then, they might not deal with all of it.  Here, Harry is tucked under Nick's protective arm and the blankets are too hot around them, especially when Pig jumps up on the bed, uninvited, and disturbs their quiet moment. Harry lets her under the covers even though Nick begs him not to, and then he has a too-nosy dog roaming alongside their still-sweaty limbs and it's just. . . good, actually. It's good.

Harry nuzzles his face a little deeper into Nick's chest as Pig makes a small noise of content, and yeah. Good's definitely the word he'd use right now.


End file.
